Hospital Perceptions
by HorizonCold
Summary: Duo's perspective on the events that occured in an older fanfic "Hospital Angel." Rated for language and slight shonen-ai. 2xH, 3x4


Hospital Perceptions

**One of my brilliant friends gave me the (forced) task of re-writing a scene from a different perspective. Out of spite, I chose a fanfic, since he does not particularly like them. But anyway, here's Duo's perspective on the events from "Hospital Angel". And I was told it was a cop out to make Duo sleep so long, but I didn't want to type out 45 minutes of dialogue. **

**Slight language warning. My computer keeps wanting to turn Quatre into Quarter. 2xH. Hints at 3x4. **

**And no, I do not own Gundam Wing. If I did, Trowa would not have disappeared for a third of the series. Unless he happened to disappear into my bedroom.**

There's something about hospitals that has never seemed right to me. If a person is in pain, shouldn't their place of healing be the opposite of their discomfort—warm and gentle? Rich delight in contrast to white hot agony? Maybe not, 'cause all of the hospitals I've been in look like a brainwashed mind. Empty and repetitive. Of course, they all tell me I'm insane.

I'm tired. The war is over because one big piece of metal was obliterated and I can't celebrate because one stupid girl had to go and nearly kill herself. Quatre too, but he's not the girl. But he is the reason why I'm out on the streets buying cheap plastic cups with the little bit of money I have in my possession. Gotta bring a gift for the almost dead.

Somehow flowers seem like a stupid hospital thing too. They're not alive. According to Wufei, they are the reproductive system of plants. Doesn't that sound crude?

Got some earlier for Hilde, though.

I could've gotten just two cups, but Trowa heard the joke too. We became a little team—04, 03, and me. Wufei's off his social rocker and Heero's got more internal issues than most patients at this hospital.

Speaking of this pristine hell, can't a teenage boy walk around without getting those sympathetic eyes? No-one I care about died recently. Not completely. Ah, Nurse Butch. A familiar face.

"Hey, Booker, how's my girl?" This guy has to be the biggest man I've ever seen in a medical uniform. Or any uniform. And I've seen a whole shitload of men in uniforms.

"She's doing fine, Mr. Maxwell."

"Grand. Can you tell me Quatre Winner's room number again?"

"342. Behind you."

How appropriate. "I knew that. Just trying to make you feel important." That gets a snicker out of him. Makes me feel important too.

"Yeah right. Sir."

"But you'll tell me if my girl has a problem?"

"How will I contact you?"

Opening up Quat's door, I have to grin. He knows I love playing with the intercom. Nearly got kicked out last night for doing my death-god impression live. "Call me, sweetie!"

He laughs at my thumbs-up. Yep, I'm good. I like making people laugh, especially in the periods in my life when I have no idea what I'm doing next. I hate living day-to-day. Too bad it's the only way to live when you're a terrorist. Or an orphan.

Oh, crap. Quatre looks really pale. I mean, paler than usual. He deserves a great big hug. So I shall give him one. Okay, genius, put the cups down first. Then hug.

"Man, you had us all worried. That Dorothy chick cut you up real good."

His eyes are bright, though. He'll live. Terrorists are hard to kill, I've heard. Nah, I won't believe that for a second. Terrorist flesh is flesh and it can tear under bullets or swords the same as any other flesh.

"It's all for the better, Duo. She's realized what Trowa taught me. It's not a weakness to have a heart as you fight. It's a gift."

Something moves, and I think I would have shot it if I had my gun on me. Hello, Trowa. Could you have blended into the wall any better if you had tried? Jeez, at least I'm in the right place to have a heart attack.

Maybe I should be more aware of my surroundings. Oh well, too late to be a better soldier now.

Trowa picks up the cups, easily cradling them in long fingers. Jerk. I was clumsy with them all the trip back, and he's a freaking finger ballerina. Or acrobat. Same difference except one's in the air and the other ain't.

The quiet man speaks! "I'll go find something to fill these up with. Something non-alcoholic."

I can't believe Trowa Barton just cracked a joke. Probably to make Quatre laugh. That's almost too adorably sweet for the Shinigami, and I think Tro's seen some inner part of me go gushy, 'cause he's sure booking it out of the room.

Perceptive guy. Can't he even see he's got more love for Quatre than most people do for their own damn selves? Then again, I hate myself. Maybe Trowa does too. Hate himself, I mean. Not me.

Okay, _focus. _

I really need some sleep.

"You're tired."

"Huh?" Quatre's looking at me with a 'knowing' face. "Yeah. Long nights."

"Hopefully the last ones you'll have to tribute in the name of war. Is she pulling through?"

"Mmmhmm." I can't stand up any more, so Trowa's vacated bedside chair is my bum's new bestest buddy. As is the mattress for my head. Quatre lays his warm hand in my hair. Or presses my warm hair under his hand. Either one.

"Sleep, Duo. I'll watch over you."

"Thanks, Quat. I wouldn't trust many do to that for little ol' me."

His smile is like Sister Helen's. And it's the last think I see before darkness. But Sister Helen is the last thing I see before I wake up.

Quatre turns his gaze back to me from somewhere out the window. "You didn't sleep long."

"How much?"

"Forty-two minutes." No wonder I don't feel any better.

"There's a clock?"

"No. I was counting the seconds."

"…Until he comes back?"

He blushes and coughs, holding his side as he does. "Maybe."

"Is he coming back? He's been gone a long time."

"He's still in the hospital. I can feel him."

I want to see Quatre smile again. He's the easiest one to get to smile. "Dude, that's like an uploaded version of Gaydar! Gaydar 2.0!"

We laugh together. Score for me! Although I shouldn't laugh along with people, really. Deathgods don't laugh. Strangely enough, I never laughed before becoming Shinigami.

Did I cry back then? I cry a lot now.

When you speak of the devil, you invite him to enter. Trowa returns, as calm as ever like he didn't just play AWOL.

"Apple juice." Well, duh. Quatre's favorite.

"Yum." See? Told you. But it's good stuff. Reminds me that I need to steal more food from the cart. Nobody likes hospital mashed potatoes. I'll take those.

"Did you get lost?" I have to ask. I want to see him make a human mistake. Losing his memory and being clueless doesn't count. That wasn't his mistake, and it just made him cute. Especially because he latched on to me for a while. "Nurse already came in twice."

'Cause the sheets near the bed have been signed twice. Perceptive, aren't I? Beat that, silent one.

"It's a big hospital. I couldn't find a dining area."

Ooh, stupid human counter, Barton. "Why didn't you use the maps that have glued to every freaking elevator?"

"I didn't use the elevators." Right. Because you so need the exercise. "I try to leave my memory open to memorize enemy bases, not civilian facilities."

Oh. Can't you just feel pity for the man? He's grown up a soldier, just like Heero. At least the rest of us got to play for a while at being civilians. Oddly though, I think Trowa's going to have the easiest time adjusting to life outside of the war. He has a family he's already lived with for a while.

I need to find a job.

"How's Hilde?"

Wow, he said her name. Most people avoid names when discussing the hurt. The hurt become endearments. "She's alright. A lot better than she was at least. Doctors say she might wake up soon."

Damn, am I crying? I need more sleep. Less time to think about my girls. Hilde and Sister Helen. Those who sacrificed because of me. For me. I hate my curse.

"Good. If she hadn't found her stance and taken Libra's floor plans, we would still be fighting."

Yes, Trowa, true. But Hilde wasn't meant to do what we do. And we're still fighting. Just not the war.

I can't see the happiness in anything. Maybe I need more than sleep. Trowa's still looking at me, and Quatre at him. I need a conversation starter. Umm… "Speaking of women…how about Heero and Relena, huh? Ain't that crazy?"

I think Quatre beams. That, or he's under too much medication. "Yes, it's wonderful they could find love amidst all that war."

Hah. Sneaky. Don't you see that he's throwing himself at your feet, Barton? "And Noin and Zechs? They're nuts for each other."

Believe it or not, Trowa actually joins in the gossip. "I feel sorry for Lady, for losing Trieze."

Ah, Kushrenada. Too bad I never got to see him up close before he blew up. Heard he was quite a looker. Or a previous hooker. I should learn to listen better.

"Wufei was upset about winning that battle. He really expected to die at Trieze's hands. Lady Une doesn't hold a grudge, thankfully."

I suppress a shudder at the thought—all the thoughts. Why did Wufei want to lose? Honestly, I'd rather die by the hand of something flawless—a machine. That way I won't feel so bad in those last moments before oblivion. Losing to another human, to something as flawed as me—that would be humiliating. "Yes, siree, Quat, that wouldn't have been a pretty sight. But really, Trowa, I think you're the only one who can understand her. Or just stand her."

Trowa's lithe body shifts in the window, kinda like water. There's no awkwardness now. Not since he regained his memory. "Maybe, but I spent more time with her while working undercover. She's unstable, but very determined to work for what she believes in."

Damn, the jealousy on Quatre's face is priceless. "Is she one of the people you protect, Trowa?"

Answer well, Barton, at the risk of your future sex life. "No. The Lady is quite capable of taking care for herself."

Quatre and I both laugh, but I think Quat's laughter is more out of relief than mirth. Anyway, it feels good to be laughing so much. Now it's time to tease. "So, are there any girls waitin' for you two somewhere?" Ha, got a blush from the blond. If he wasn't hurt, I think he would have stuffed my braid down my throat. Which would be sad. I like my braid.

I leave Quat alone, just in case he decides to hold a grudge. "So what about you, T-man? That woman at the circus was pretty hot." And mean. Definitely mean.

"Catherine? She's my sister."

Ah, cute. Sibling opposites. Hot and cranky versus blah and emotionally dead. No, that's not fair of me to think—Trowa has his fair share of emotions. He has to. Or else he wouldn't have nightmares. Trowa screams in his sleep. Plus, he's gotta thing for Quatre.

"Whoops, sorry, didn't realize."

Trowa nods as Quatre asks a tentative question. Hear the hope, clown? "What are you going to do now the war is over, Trowa?"

"I'll go back to Catherine. The circus is my home."

I butt in before Trowa can see the hurting disappointed look on Quatre's face. Quat would have gladly let Trowa into his life. Probably would even give up the business to follow Trowa around the galaxy, if Trowa asked him to. Honestly, if I had that kind of connection with someone, I'd ask for it. "Yep, any home is a good one—even a moving tent if you ask me. I wanna chill out with Hilde as long as I can. Make sure she's alright."

At least, maybe I'll do that. Yeah, sounds like a good plan. Responsible. Secure. Just like a good Shinigami, right?

Did I mention that I need sleep?

"Hmm…I suppose my home will be with the business. My sisters cannot carry all the work forever."

Not that you're chomping at the bit to go take over Daddy's position, Quat? Where did that expression come from anyway? Who chomps bits? "And I'll bet your forty shadows will be right by your side, huh? If I had twenty-nine sisters myself, I would let them deal with the work and go have some fun."

Can't help but laugh again. What fun could we have? To us, all games are a type of training. What do we train for now?

"Speaking of sisters, Cathy will be worried if I don't return to her soon."

Dude, Quatre will be worried if you don't stay. But it's a good idea. I need to check on Hilde. To watch over the dying and the dead. That's my job, soldier or not. Hey, maybe I should open up a funeral home. Mine would look much more homey than this hospital.

Oh, they're hugging. Trowa and Quatre are hugging. For a long time. That's…really sweet. It's nice to see stuff like that between people like us. Soldiers loving each other. Not just loving or being loved by those on the sidelines, but being loved by those who know exactly what you've gone through. What you've done.

They pull apart and Trowa's green eyes focus on me. Are they questioning? Cautious? I see something in there, I swear. "What?"

"Just glad to see a cold heart show a little emotion."

Next thing I know, I'm out of the chair and against Trowa's chest with his arms around my back. My arms are around him too.

He doesn't feel like water. His turtleneck is soft and his shoulder dips slightly underneath my head. Turns out, Trowa's human. And a warm human too. Warm enough to love me? As a soldier? As a friend?

"Take care, Duo."

I'm crying again, and he's watching me. "You too, Trowa."

Quatre's voice brings me back to the room, so to speak. "Don't worry. We'll all be together again some day. I can feel it."

"Yea! And then we can have a real party!" I keep the smile plastered on until Trowa leaves, slumping back down into the chair.

The idea settles my aching limbs more than sleep would. The three of us—maybe even the five of us—as a group once more. As a family. I can hold on until then. With Hilde.

Yeah, it's rosy and hopeful, but why else would we have been thrown together? Five lethal, weird-ass kids that complete…something…in each other that was missing? "No-one else would understand." Quatre's not looking at me, but he's speaking my thoughts. We five are unique among all soldiers. Only we really know what we're like not only on the battlefield or off the battlefield, but in that scary place in-between.

Heero's intense belief in peace. How much he hates to kill. That his only set goal in life is to someday own a puppy.

Wufei's gentle side. The side that wears glasses to read all those textbooks he crams into side spaces in his cockpit. That he weeps after battles.

Quatre's anger. The fact that he doesn't always feel sorry when he kills. And he kills well.

Trowa's loneliness. The way he loves to look at the stars at night. That he's starved so much before he breaks down when entering a grocery store.

And my sadness.

"You look far away, Duo."

"Oh, sorry, Quat. Guess I need to check on my girl now."

He smiles, far away too, handing me a napkin. He's written on it with the nurses' pen. "My number. Keep in touch. We'll have to be the ones to call the others when the time comes."

Shit, I'm crying _again_. "Yeah. I will. And you know Duo Maxwell never tells a lie." I lean over a kiss his forehead. In a friendly way. Don't wanna be moving in on Tro's territory. "I'll be back tomorrow. But get someone to find me if they let you out before then. So I can say goodbye."

His blue-green eyes drift to the window again, then back to me. He's smiling so wide it hurts me to breathe. "Never goodbye, Duo."

He squeezes my hands in his before I leave to lay down next to my girl a few floors down. Cradling her in my arms—which I'm not supposed to do according to Nurse Butch—I close my eyes for some much needed sleep.

This time it will finally come.

Because I have a future to wake up to.

**Owari**


End file.
